


The Reunion

by Siancore



Category: Richonne - Fandom, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don't Trust the Writers to Give Them the Reunion They Deserve, Richonne Angst, Richonne Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siancore/pseuds/Siancore
Summary: Rick finds his way home to ASZ.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A collab between thematsaidwelcome and I detailing Rick’s return to ASZ. Set six years after his disappearance and detailing his return home. 
> 
> Follow thematsaidwelcome on FF.net and Tumblr: @thematsaidwelcome79

The cool water slid down Rick’s throat. It hurt a little, as he swallowed too much at once; the reprieve felt almost foreign. He could not remember the last time he had been given something to drink. His captors liked to remind him that being an ingrate in their community did not go unpunished. It was not that Rick was ungrateful for the help, because he truly was. They had saved his life when he was on the brink of death. They had lifted him to safety, and, as they so bluntly put it, wasted valuable resources on him; resources that could have gone to someone else. Someone who would have appreciated the help. Someone who would have wanted to stay and work off the debt that they owed. But Rick Grimes did not want to stay. He wanted to go home to Michonne and Judith; he _needed_ to go home to his family. He was not an ingrate, but rather, a man who wanted to be with his wife and daughter.

That was almost six years ago. Six heartbreaking, lonely years. It crushed his heart just to acknowledge how long it had been. Not a single day passed where he did not miss his girls. Not a single day passed where he had not longed for them; where he wished he had done things differently. Where he wished he would have spent more time with them, and less time at the bridge. Where he _hoped_ and prayed that they were safe. They had to be. He knew Michonne would do everything in her power to make sure they were.

_Judith._ His precious child whom he swore to always protect. Whom he had hoped to be there with, every step of the way. His daughter who did not deserve this world she was thrust into. He missed her little smile. He missed the way that she felt in his embrace; how she looked at him with such adoration that it caused his heart to swell with pride, and hurt at the same time because all he ever wanted to do was live for her.

_Michonne._ His heart ached for her, knowing that she most likely thought he had died. She had lost so much, _too_ much. It saddened him deeply that he was putting her through the grief of losing yet another person she loved. He missed the way she felt wrapped in his arms. How her kisses breathed new life into him again and yet again. How she was smart and strong and wanted the best for their little family.

Thoughts of them are what kept Rick going on those harsh days and those long and lonely nights. When he had first arrived, he was unconscious. He spent months in a coma, he was told. They had kept him alive and cared for him. When he had woken, he was disoriented and remembered nothing of what led to him being there.

As time passed, he grew strong, regained his memories, and healed; he recalled seeing all of the people he had cared for. The ones who were long gone, and the ones who were still living. And then that explosion. The destruction of the bridge, and the sacrifice of _his_ life, to save everyone else. When he was feeling particularly low, he would curse himself for giving so much. But then he would regain composure and realize he had done the right thing. He had saved them.

Yet it was not lost on Rick that the cost to himself was great. Though his family was safe, they were without him, and he was without them. That is what fuelled him and his urge to leave the community. When he was well enough to work, they asked him to. _Jadis_ asked him to. Her being allowed to stay, it seemed, was riding on Rick’s cooperation and willingness to toil and sweat as a form of recompense.

He reminded her that he had a family back in Alexandria; this meant very little to her. He knew she was a selfish person, but this was another level of malice. He reminded himself that she should meet a swift end if ever he was afforded to opportunity to do so. With each failed attempt at escape; with each subsequent beating and imprisonment, Rick grew more determined to free himself of the walls of this prison dressed up as civilization. But he needed to be smart. They had locked him away for long enough, now he would convince them he was ready to join the workforce.

Presently, he found himself being given food and water. He would play the grateful prisoner for a time, even agree to work their fields, until it was time for him to make his move. Jadis stood at the other side of the small cell and watched him. He chewed the food slowly, so he did not choke, and hoped it would be enough to give his some physical strength.

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your life in here,” she said. He said nothing. It was the same message she delivered each and every time she visited. “There’s work to be done; debts to be paid, if you’re ready to do what’s needed without trying to get away, they will have you. They will let you out of this shithole.”

Rick washed his food down with the water she brought with her. He then looked up and met her eyes. Determination rose in his aching stomach until it seeped through his tired bones and flowed through his veins. He cleared his throat and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m ready.”

…..

The sun was bright and it burned his eyes. Being locked away in the dark cell did not help to maintain his eyesight. It took a moment to adjust to being outdoors in that daylight again. A guard stayed with Rick while he went to wash up. The dirt and grime fell from his weary body and the cold water rejuvenated him. As he found his bearings, he remembered that the prison cells were near the agricultural fields, and the sprawling community was off in the distance.

Rick slicked his long curls back, and ran his hand over his thick, mostly-white beard. He would not waste time visiting a barber, for half of the day was already gone. Instead, he chose to begin to work the fields. If he did that for a week or so, maybe the powers that be would be more lax with the security detail; maybe they would be fooled into thinking he was ready to repay them for their so-called hospitality and kindness.

…..

With each day that passed, Rick grew stronger. With each day, he was able to take note of the routines of the guards, and identify if there were any structural weaknesses in the walls: There were none, but off in one of the corners, the barrier was low. What he understood of this community was that it was part of a larger network. No one told him where he was in the world; no one told how far he was from home. It was something of a security measure against those whom the community had _acquired_.

It was the end of another workday, a few weeks into his duties, and Rick was packing away the farming implements and chemicals he was using. The guards’ watchful eyes were never far away, so there was no way he could take one of the tools back to the cells with him. As he brushed his curls from his brow, he had an idea. It just might work, too, he mused, if he could get word to the other prisoners and gain their support. Upon approaching one of the guards, he put forth his request.

“Do you think I’d be able to see the barber tonight?” asked Rick as he ran his hand through his mess of curls. “Didn’t realize how much of a bitch it was to let my hair get so long.”

The guard eyed him, and then nodded his head before saying, “Yeah. Don’t see why not. I’ll send him around after meal time.”

“Thanks,” said Rick as he ambled toward the mess hall to have dinner and spread a few whispers of dissent.

…..

The thing about the prison block in the community was that it was only guarded by two people at any time: One on the inside, and the other at the outer door. It was their own hubris about the fortitude of their infrastructure that accounted for this somewhat relaxed approach. Rick was going to use it to his advantage.

He waited in his cell for the barber to come; upon their arrival, Rick played the willing punter in need of a cut and shave. He backed away from the cell door when the sentry unlocked it, and took up a seat on the stool the barber brought in.

“Yell if you need anything,” said the guard as he closed the door and left the two men inside the cell. Rick noticed it was not locked. They would be foolish to lock someone in there with a prisoner. There was no way they would even entertain letting a prisoner go with a hostage. Luckily, Rick had no intentions of taking a hostage.

“What’d you need?” asked the barber as he sharpened his straight razor on the leather strap attached to his bag.

“Get rid of the beard,” said Rick. “But leave the curls, my wife loves them. She’ll want to run her fingers through them when I break free from this place and find her.”

“Eh?” asked the barber.

As quickly as he grew confused, Rick was on him and had freed the razor from his grasp. He used it to slice it across the barber’s neck. His limp body fell to the dusty floor as the people in the cells next to Rick started yelling and banging on their cages. The guards were back there in no time, one before the other. Rick rammed the freshly sharpened blade into the first guard’s stomach, before disembowelling him. He moved to the next guard and kicked him in the shin, effectively breaking his leg just below the knee. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor before Rick took the razor from the other guard’s still-writhing corpse, and slit his throat. He searched their bodies for the keys and took one lot for himself, and gave the others to the other prisoners.

Havoc ensued as everyone ran from the block to make their escape. They used chemicals on hand to fuel the fires; they set the cellblock and the crops alight. Some dashed for the fences and ran for the walls. Others wanted retribution for their captivity and were intent on doing as much damage as they could. It took some time before alarms were sounded and the police force came. Rick hid over near one of the tool sheds and watched the chaos unfurl. While the authorities were busy with chasing down escapees and extinguishing fires, Rick crept away to the quiet corner of the yard and scaled the fence in the place where it was lowest. 

By the time the fires were put out and the prisoners were either captured or killed, Rick was running furiously through the abandoned streets of the outlying surrounds. He ran until his legs felt like they would give way. He ran until his lungs hurt. He ran until he could no longer smell the smoke from the fires. He ran until his body was so heavy that it collapsed to the soft dirt on the side of a sealed road. He willed himself to stand and figure out where he was. In the moonlight, he was able to see a sign that read: _Welcome to Ohio. So much to discover…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Dear Readers! Thanks for the phenomenal response to the prologue. Your feedback has been great. This chapter was written by the wonderfully talented thematsaidwelcome; please go and show her some love on her FF.net page, and at Tumblr. Okay, here we go!

Walking had never been a problem for Rick. It was the most reliable way to get from point A to point B after the world went to shit. The luxury of sitting while you traveled was just that, a luxury, but as he watched his feet take one step in front of the other, he couldn’t help thinking about his old squad car, the nameless horse that took him into the city the day he met Glenn, the beat up Suburban that drove him, Carl and Hershel off the farm or the RV that they used to get Maggie to the Hilltop the night he seemed to lose everything. Thinking back over all he’d gone through to get to this point although agonizing, it was nothing like the pain of not seeing his family for so long. That need to see them is what propelled his steps and kept his complaining at bay. Each step he took was taking him that much closer to his little girl and the woman he loved more than anything. 

As he walked Rick remembered watching her plan for the future, plan for the better of man, plan for those around her even if they didn’t appreciate all the work she put in. All her hard work for a future gave him plans of his own. He smiled thinking of that yellow pencil as it flipped through the air and the plans for a future he wanted to share with her. A future that was cut short and blown up in a blazing ball of flames. But as with all great love stories there was nothing that could keep them apart. Not time, distance or worldly elements. As hot as those flames were, they were nothing compared to the heat him and Michonne created when they shut the world out, dropped the title of leaders and became just husband and wife. Those were the real flames and those were the memories that he held on to each and every day to make sure he got back to her. 

***

The sun was almost at its highest when he saw the gates in the distance. Holding off the urge to run full speed for the tall metal that separated the community from everyone else, he kept his steps steady and pressed on at a safe pace as not to alert anyone of his arrival. Knowing how long it had been since he last graced the front gates, he decided to air on the side of caution and walk around the east side first to see if he could see anyone. There was a hidden exit there that only a few people knew about and were instructed to use if the front was blocked or they couldn’t get to it. He hoped it was still there. 

Placing his hand on the steel panel, he felt around until his middle finger touched the tiny latch that opened the secret door in the steel panel. Using his stealthlike skills he quietly stepped inside, looking around to make sure no one saw him. He didn’t see anyone nearby, but he heard voices in the distance. With a light step he moved toward the sound of people talking. Keeping himself hidden along the steel barriers, he walked until he could see who the voices were coming from. Stooping down to make sure he wasn’t seen as he got closer, he saw two children sitting on a wooden bench, their backs to him. 

“So why doesn’t the princess just save herself?”

“I don’t know, RJ,” Judith shrugged. “That’s the way they used to write these old timey stories. The women always waited for their knight in shining armour to rescue them. It’s kind of dumb.” 

“Too bad they didn’t know you and mama,” RJ beamed. “The story would be a lot different.” Hopping off the bench, RJ picked up a long wooden stick off the ground and got into position to joust with his big sister. Judith had a matching stick that they used for practice and she swung the tip low, blocked by RJ, then high, blocked by him again. They did this dance for a few minutes, Judith backing him up gaining the upper hand, then relinquishing her lead, allowing him to do the same. Through the whole thing, she watched his big brown eyes as they changed from intense and focused to amused and playful. His dark curls bounced everywhere with each step he took. 

“You’re getting good at this R.J., almost as good as me.” She took a step forward with her left foot, touching the tip of her sword ever so gently to the outside of his left thigh. “Almost.”

“Awe man. That’s not fair. You distracted me.” 

“Maybe so, but what did mama say about distractions?”

“Nothing’s more important than our lives. We can’t let anything distract us,” RJ mumbled. He knew how important it was to stay focused. He’d seen what happened when people didn’t and he didn’t want to end up like them. 

“Yep,” she placed her arm around his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You want to read another story?”

“Yes, but does it have to be a fairy tale? I like the one about the ham.” 

“That’s in the house,” Judith took his stick from his hand. “Grab the other books and we’ll go get it. Lunch is probably almost ready anyways.”

“Is mama gonna make me take a nap?” His steps faltered and his movements slowed at the prospect of having to get in the bed during the middle of the day.

“She probably will,” Judith said knowing how much her little brother hated naps. 

“Then let’s wait to go in for a little bit,” he sat on the wooden bench that was in the courtyard they were playing just inside the steel walls. With all the extra traps that were installed and less walkers to contend with, they were allowed to be by themselves today, but always still close enough to be within earshot should anything happen. Judith had just sat down beside him when they heard a rustling coming from the trees nearby. She and RJ both stilled to listen closer, then stood. They didn’t hear the tale tell signs of feet dragging slow through the fallen leaves or the low moans of the undead, so putting herself in front of her brother Judith trained her gun on the approaching sound, waiting for it to come into view. As soon as the feet were visible, she sprang into action with her first commands. 

“Stop right there.” Peeking around his sister, RJ saw the man slow his steps. His hands raised by his dirty bearded face, palms out towards them. Recognition in his eyes. “I said stop!” she repeated a bit more forceful this time. He stood still, looking her over as well as the gun she held so comfortably in her hands. A gun he knew well. He wanted to smile at the fierceness in her eyes. No doubt a trait she got from Michonne. Michonne. Her face flashed across his mind. He was so close. “Who are you?”

“What’s your… what’s your name?” he asked, choking out the words, trying not to be too loud in his questioning. She stared at him, never letting the gun sway. “I’m Rick,” he finally said. “I used to live here.” He slowly put his hands down. “I’m gonna turn around, so you can see I don’t have a weapon.” Leading with his right foot, he turned to the left making a circle with his feet. Judith scanned his body, paying close attention to his waist and checking for anything concealed in his pant legs. Aside from some well-worn clothes, he seemed to be unarmed, but she kept the gun trained on him anyways. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Looking for my family,” he noticed the old faded brown hat she wore. “My son…” he went silent for a moment thinking about when he gave his sheriff’s hat to Carl after he was shot the first time. He was such a strong boy that grew up into an even better man and his death still didn’t make sense to him. “My son used to have a hat like that.”

“It was my brother Carl’s.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about it. This dirty stranger who was in her line of fire had a voice that she’d heard before and familiar eyes, but she didn’t know why.

“I knew Carl,” he whispered. Then it hit him. The gun in her hand, the hat on her head over her long brown hair. Even the sword slung across her back. “Judith?”

“How do you… how do you know my name?” Judith was sceptical of the stranger before her, but his familiar eyes wouldn’t allow her to be too scared. Rick’s knees buckled, his heart sped up and he felt light headed, but he forced his eyes to stay on her. To replace the memories he had of her with these new features in front of him. The eyes, nose and mouth that he saw everyday on the baby he rocked to sleep so long ago. The toddler that he played hide and seek with, the precocious child that drew him with a tummy all those years ago. 

“I’m your daddy,” he declared. His knees gave then, dropping to the ground, the dried leaves crushing under his weight. He drew in a deep sharp breath, not believing that this day had finally come. 

“Daddy.” Her scepticism turned to astonished joy. The gun she had trained on him, fell to her side before it was tucked back into the holster.

“Daddy.”

Taking a tentative step her curiosity propelled her forward, so she was walking to stand in front of a kneeling Rick. RJ still hiding himself, stayed behind her as she looked over his face with every step. The beard was fuller, longer, but her hands remembered brushing against it. His piercing blue eyes commanding, yet kind and gentle. He nodded his head up and down, unable to come up with any words that would accurately describe his feelings at the moment. She kept walking until she was right in front of him, the edge of her boot touching the tip of his fingertip. He raised his head seeing her face up close for the first time in too many years. If his mind was working right, he’d be able to tell the number, down to the days, but right now he was too busy recommitting her face to his memory. She repeated that word again. The word he’s heard in his dreams every night since that awful day.

“Daddy.”

His fingers starting to move, touching the hem of her jeans, her knees, making sure she was real then her shoulders, squeezing her gently wanting to feel the bones that made up his little girl.

“Judith.”

Her arms flew around his neck, his around her waist. He picked her up stroking the strands of her hair, his tears fell steadily down his cheeks. “Judith,” he repeated in a whisper. 

“Mom said you’d come back. She said she couldn’t reorder the world by herself,” Judith hugged him then. She hugged him tight, with all the strength and power she had. She was happy to have him back. Happy to have him where he belonged. Happy to see him, to feel his scruffy beard on her hands and to be able to see the face that looked so much like the one she was just telling a story to.

“Who’s your friend?” Rick asked, looking beyond Judith to the shy curly haired boy that stood behind her a few steps away. He was watching the reunion with apt interest wondering who the stranger was that had his big sister so engrossed. 

“That’s not my friend,” Judith giggled. “That’s RJ.”

“RJ,” Rick repeated aloud, then silently again in his head as he looked the small child over. His familiar face made him smile. The shy eyes, deep with honesty and skepticism. RJ stayed quiet allowing the man to look him over, aware that Judith wouldn’t let any harm come to him. “RJ,” he said again, setting Judith on the feet. His eyes traced every strand of the boys hair that mirrored his own when he allowed it to grow and showcase the naturally curly pattern of his tresses. The shape of his mouth that reminded him of Michonne when she was concentrating on something important. “RJ,” he repeated. 

“My little brother.” The realization hit Rick like a ton of bricks. Her brother. His son. RJ. A beautiful boy the color of a love that could only be created by Michonne and him. Judith reached her hand back to let RJ know it was alright to come closer. Gingerly stepping forward he stood behind Judith, peering around her to the dirty stranger with the kind eyes that was smiling at him. 

“Hel...hello, RJ,” he cleared his throat of the strain caused by the absolute astonishment of his son standing in front of him brought on. “It’s nice to meet you,” he whispered before the tears started to streak down his face. “You look like your mother.”

“She says I look like my daddy,” RJ said quietly. 

“I suppose you do look like him too.”

“What’s your name?” RJ asked. He knew he had said it before, but didn’t know what else to say. Clearing his throat again, Rick scratched at his beard before answering.

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” Smiling wide, RJ came out from behind Judith to stand next to her. 

“That’s my name,” he pointed to his chest, amazed he shared a name with someone.

“I guess we have that in common. It’s a pretty cool name.” Rick wanted so much to touch him. To feel if he was as warm as he knew Michonne to be, but he knew he had to go slow. “What were you and your sister doing out here?”

“She was telling me stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“The ones from the book,” he pointed to the thick worn book that was sitting on the bench. Rick smiled, wondering where it had been picked up from. He could tell that the cover was at one time white, but it’s many reads had turned it almost a grey color. 

“It’s full of fairy tales. Mom doesn’t like them that much,” Judith said.

“Why not?”

“She says they aren’t realistic,” Judith shrugged, feeling the same way, but knew they provided entertainment. “Uncle Daryl says you tell great stories,” Judith added. 

“The ones he tells are all about Dog,” RJ groaned. Standing up, Rick walked over to the bench to pick up the book. Thumbing through it, the pictures of the tales brought back memories of the bedtime stories Carl used to love so much before he decided he was too old for them. “Do you know any stories?” RJ asked him. Thinking, Rick sat down and watched as RJ sat next to him. All he wanted to do was stare at his small face. The face the he’d created with Michonne. His son. Their son. “Do you?” RJ asked again, bringing him back with his question. Rick nodded his head as an answer and began the story.

_“Once upon a time on a hot Georgian day a very tired and sad man was saved by a beautiful Queen…”_

He went on to tell a story about how the man and the Queen had to work together to slay an evil dragon. The mission took a long time and by the time it was over they were starting to fall in love. The man had a prince and a princess that lived with him in the concrete castle, and together with the Queen they all became a family. Then one day there was a huge explosion at the castle and the princess was lost. The man and the prince had to run away as fast as they could, leaving the Queen behind. The brave prince and the man traveled until they couldn’t anymore. Since the man was badly hurt, the prince and the man had to find a house to hide in in case anymore evil dragons were out there. Finally able to fall asleep, the man slept for a long time because he was missing the princess and the Queen. 

“Did they ever find the Queen?” RJ asked 

“No. She found them,” Rick said with a huge smile remembering the sound of Michonne’s knocks on the door and her face through the peephole. “ After the man was rested enough they set out on another adventure. The prince, the Queen and the man traveled more and had to fight more evil dragons.”

“Did they slay the dragons?” RJ asked engrossed in the story. 

“Yes,” Rick said. “The beautiful Queen used her powerful sword and the man used his gun…” he glanced at the Colt resting in the holster that hung from Judith’s waist. “They worked together and were able to cut down all the evil dragons that came after them. Then one day the Queen and the man went to a carnival. While they were there they got married and the man became a King.” 

Rick ended the story there, not wanting to go into detail about how the Queen loved the King in spite of his broken pieces. How she loved him unconditionally and because of that, he would do anything in his power to make sure she was happy. He wanted to apologize to them both for not being with them for so long. For not being able to watch them grow and thrive. For not being able to see them smile when they learned something new or cry when frustration set in. But he didn’t know where to start. Seeing their faces, all he wanted to do was just keep them smiling at him. 

“Then what happened?” Judith asked.

“They lived happily ever after.” Rick said with finality. “Does your mom usually let you two stay out here by yourselves?”

“We’re within shouting distance.” RJ said to a smiling Rick, who remembers his mom telling him the same thing when he was a child. “Judith can protect us if the walkers come...or anyone else.”

“I bet she can,” Rick nodded. “What about you?” Rick asked RJ, wanting to know if he could protect himself if he had to.

“We play sword fight. Judith says I’m getting really good.” He stood a little taller projecting himself as the fighter he knew he was. “Do you know how to play?”

“No. You want to show me?” Hopping off the bench, RJ picked up the two sticks that he and Judith used earlier, handing one to Rick then taking a step back to get into position.

“You want to stand like this,” RJ told him, his feet square with his shoulders, holding the sword with both hands at the base in front of him. Rick mimicked his stance.

“Like this?” he asked.

“Yes. Now you have to try and block me.” With a flick of his little wrist, RJ swung the tip of the sword toward Rick. Taking a step back, Rick blocked RJ’s first attempt, then the sparring was on. Judith watched intently as the father and son duo worked up a sweat swinging, blocking and cutting through the air with their makeshift swords. 

“Stay focused RJ,” Judith urged. “You can’t let him get the upper hand. Always be thinking of your next move. Watch his feet and his eyes.” Rick was impressed at the way Judith was teaching her brother. No doubt she learned all she knew from Michonne. Even at her young age she was a force to be reckoned with. Having a proud father moment, Rick forgot to pay attention and RJ touched the tip of his sword to the side of his knee. “There you go RJ!”

“You got me.” Rick dropped his stick and fell to his knees, clutching his chest in defeat. The grin on RJ’s face was well worth the pain of the small rocks that were pressing into his knees. 

“You’re funny,” RJ laughed. He picked up the stick that Rick dropped then held out his hand to help him up. “You can’t take your eyes off your opponent.”

“I’ll remember that next time. Thank you.” 

“Come on RJ, it’s time for lunch.” 

“Will you eat with us?” RJ asked Rick. “I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.” Not being able to help himself, Rick picked RJ up and held him. Discreetly inhaling his scent and touching his hair. He was just as warm as he thought he’d be. Rick could feel his little heartbeat against his chest and it made him want to cry. It was strong and steady and created by him and Michonne. 

“I’d love to.”

Walking into the house, Judith went straight for the kitchen where Michonne was plating up lunch.

“I was just about to come get you two,” she said turning around expecting to see both her children. “Where’s RJ?” Michonne asked a bit of panic in her voice.

“He’s coming.”

“You left him by himself?”

“No. He’s with Daddy.” Michonne went still, not understanding what Judith was talking about, then she heard the sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floor. Looking to the kitchen door she stared at the shadowed man in the doorway who was holding her son. 

“Hello Michonne.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the love on this one. I wrote this chapter. Enjoy!

_“Hello, Michonne.”_

The words rang in her ears as she regarded the man who was slowly approaching. Panic washed over her. Her heart was in her throat. She was frozen in place. Her name on his lips sounded familiar, yet different; his voice was hesitant, yet there was a hint of longing therein. He stepped forward out of the shadows and her eyes met his. This man who looked like Rick underneath a mess of facial hair and the filth that only their world could imbue.

_This could not be real. Rick was dead._

Yet there was someone wearing _his_ face, holding _his_ son, standing in _their_ home. His mouth moved, but Michonne did not hear the words that he had said. The utensil she was using dropped to the floor and time had slowed to a painful crawl around her.  
  
 _This could not be real. Rick was dead._

She had mourned him. She had felt his loss deep within her soul. She had cried until her tears ran dry and her chest felt empty; until her being felt as if it had been hollowed out.   
  
_This could not be real. Rick was long dead. He was dead. He is dead._

This was her mind playing a cruel trick again. _He’s dead_. She saw him die. Her heart was pounding as the gritting feeling overwhelmed her. Her breathing became labored as she hyperventilated. This was a bad dream. She would wake soon. She would wake into a world where Rick was still dead.  
  
“Michonne,” he whispered, as he placed R.J. down and inched closer.  
  
“No,” she said, as she raised her hands and backed away; tears of heartache and fear streamed down her face. “No. This isn’t real. You’re not real.”  
  
She blinked the tears away as a strained sob broke out from her throat. She had not had one of her panic attacks for some time now; she had not hallucinated in a long while. She thought she was healing; she thought she _had_ healed. Her chest hurt and she could not breathe. The imposter stood in front of her with concern in his eyes, just like _her_ Rick would, had he survived.

_But Rick was dead. He is dead._

He reached out to touch her as she whispered, “No. This isn’t happening. You’re not — you’re not real.”

  
When his fingers grazed her wrist, a rush of fear and shock overwhelmed her. It stabbed at her chest and took her breath away, completely. Her head felt light as her vision blurred and then suddenly everything went black.  
  


  
.....

  
  
The coolness of the damp wash cloth felt nice against her skin as she awoke to find it set against her brow. The light from the afternoon sun that poured into her window confused her as she rolled over in bed and removed the cloth. She recalled the odd dream she had had; the dream was so vivid. So torturous. So _real._

_What am I doing in bed?_ She thought to herself. _What is going on?_

As she went to sit up, a pain in the back of her head caused her to wince. She felt unsteady as she fell back down on the pillow.

“Michonne?” said a voice that startled her. She flew up, ignoring the throbbing in her head, and reached for her katana. It was not where she normally left it beside her bed. As she glanced to where the voice came from, she saw him. The figure that had haunted her dreams; the ghost of her love.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered.

“I’m really here,” said Rick. “You ain’t imaging this. I’m here. I’m home.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as he slowly rose from the chair that sat in the corner of her bedroom. She swallowed hard and then furrowed her brow as she regarded him.

“What – what’s happening?” she asked, still confused and frightened.

“You passed out and bumped your head,” he explained, as he took a seat on the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements, even though he wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go. Rick had learned patience in his time away from his family. He had waited this long to see them again, he could wait another moment while the love of his life came out of her haze of confusion and trepidation.

“Is this real?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, as tears welled in his eyes. “It’s real, Michonne. I’m here. I found my way home to you.”

She took in his expression. It was sincere. She could see the emotion in his eyes. Slowly, she reached out her shaky hand and placed it gently to his face. He closed his eyes at the sensation, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

Michonne’s breath hitched; he felt real under her touch. Not like the other times she had seen him and spoken to him. Those times, in the wake of Rick’s loss, she would talk to him. It was a way for her to cope. In those moments of pain, despair, and sadness, she found solace in talking to Rick. Yet, each time she reached out to him, his apparition disappeared, and she was reminded of the cruel truth that he was gone. This time, however, her fingertips ghosted over his weary skin. He was not an illusion; he was real, and he was there.

“Rick?” she said, barely above a whisper. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah,” he said, relieved. “It’s me.”

“Rick,” she sobbed. “It _is_ you.”

Without wasting another minute, Michonne wrapped her arms around Rick. He grabbed hold of her tightly and buried his face in her neck. They held one another, and let all of the pain, rage, and loneliness of six years spill out of them and dissolve in a sea of pure love.

…..

“They called it the Commonwealth,” Rick said to Michonne after he explained his ordeal with his abduction to the other community in order for Jadis to pay her way. “I didn’t know where it was until I left. I don’t even know how long I walked for. Thought my feet were gonna fall off. I’m sorry it took me so long to come home to you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, as she took hold of his hand. “You know, I went out every day looking for your body. Somewhere inside of me, I knew you weren’t really gone. But everyone said I needed to let you go. I had to keep moving forward.”

“And you did,” he said, before bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I’m so proud of you for leading this place. I knew if anyone could do it, it was you.”

Michonne held his gaze as she nodded her head, before saying, “It was hard, Rick. It was so hard without you. Every day I wanted to give up. But I looked at our kids and I knew I couldn’t; I had to live for them.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, Michonne. And that’s one of the reasons why I love you so much,” said Rick. “When I was seein’ things, when I was hallucinating before I blew up the bridge, I remember seein’ you. I saw you and I thought I found you. I thought I found my home. You telling me to wake up from that dream I was lost in saved me. It helped me to save everyone else. Even when you don’t know it, you’re helping me. You’re leading me. I’m sorry that it was so hard for you. I hate that you had to go through it all without me. But I’m home now. And R.J.”

Michonne let out a small laugh as she smiled through her tears.

“He’s so beautiful,” said Rick. “I can’t even – I don’t even have the words right now. Thank you for carrying our baby into this world. Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming home to us, Rick,” she replied, as they shared a loving kiss.

…..

Still in a blissful haze from their lovemaking, Rick and Michonne were uncertain of what time it was. The soft light from the early morning sun drifted into their bedroom and danced across their naked, glistening skin. Rick’s fingers traced over Michonne’s body in the places that the light touched. She missed this; she missed him. He felt that same longing. He was making up for all of their lost time when his lips explored every inch of her form. She tasted just how he remembered. Her pleasured little whimpers sounded like a song he had not heard in a while, but recalled each and every word; every harmony.

Soon, Rick’s body covered Michonne’s as his hands explored her once more; as he reacquainted himself with her again and again. Their lips met as she felt his desire draw closer to her center. Her breath hitched in that delicious way he had grown accustomed to when he inched himself between her swollen lips; the remnants of their previous tryst still there deep within her.

“I love you so much,” Rick whispered against her plump lips as he began with steady thrusts. He kissed the side of her face, and then the corner of her mouth.

She brought both hands to his back and gripped hold of him as she replied, “I love you, too. Don’t you ever leave me again.”

Rick stared into her eyes and stroked her hair as he rocked between thighs.

“I won’t,” he murmured, before kissing her lips once more and promising, “I won’t leave you. Not again. Not ever. I’m home.”


End file.
